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BURGES 

















































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By Burges Johnson 


Rhymes of Home 
Rhymes of Little Boys 
Rhymes of Little Folks 

By Constance and Burges Johnson 


The Private Code and Post Card Cypher 


MJijjtnrS 
of S-ittlo Jfolfe 


BY 

BURGES JOHNSON 

q 

Author of “Rhymes of Little Boys,” “Rhymes of 
Home,” “ Bashful Ballads,” etc. 


0. J5. lPutnam’s Sons 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

XLbc IRnlcfterbocfcer press 

1915 


mm 








Copyright, 1915 

BY 

BURGES JOHNSON 


Ube Iftnicfcerbocfcer press, IBew JSorft 



MAR 2 1915 

©Cl A391941 

'We-t- 


TO 

MARY ABIGAIL 
AND 

JAMES GIBSON 



PREFACE 


^T*HE dialect of childhood is an elusive 
^ thing. It is not a matter of spelling, 
but of tone and inflection. Nor is there any 
uniformity about it. The dialect that I hear 
every day may ring false in your ears, 
though you stand guard over a crowded 
nursery. 

In an earlier book the author yielded 
constantly to the allurement of misspelling 
and the temptation of accepting a ready- 
made dialect for imaginary youngsters. 
Now that there is a laboratory in his own 
home for the study of such scientific mat- 
ters, he grows less confident that there are 
any fixed rules for anything. 

Here and there in these verses you may 
find instances of reformed spelling, but in 
the main the author has written plain Eng- 
lish in the hope that you may read into the 
lines whatever tone and trick of pronuncia- 
tion sound the sweetest in your own ears. 
5 


preface 


Many of these verses have appeared in the 
magazines, and a few were published in 
an illustrated holiday gift book entitled 
“Childhood,” published by T. Y. Crowell 
& Co. The author wishes to thank the 
publishers of “ Harper’s Magazine,” “ Ev- 
erybody’s,” “ The Delineator,” “ Pictorial 
Review,” and “ St. Nicholas,” for permis- 
sions so kindly granted; and thanks are 
especially due to Harper & Bros, for per- 
mission to reprint here some of the verses 
that appear with Miss Fanny Cory’s pic- 
tures, in “ Pleasant Tragedies of Child- 
hood,” published by that firm. 

Port Washington, N. Y., 1914. 


6 


CONTENTS 


Page 

The Monarch 9 

Inconsistent 10 

The Dog’s Turn 11 

Books 12 

Prayers 13 

Ambition 14 

Does My Mother Want Me ? 15 

Mother Wants Me ! 16 

The Spy 17 

A Little Girl and A Pussy-Cat 18 

Mother’s Day Out 20 

Evenings 21 

Tea Parties 23 

A Mother’s Cares 24 

Bedtime Stories 25 

Christmas Morning 26 

The Cherub 27 

My Little Dog and Me 28 

Fickle 29 

Responsibilities 30 

Soap Bubbles 31 

Envy 32 

A Mother’s Hopes 33 

Ironing Day 34 

The Fisherman 35 

Incorrigible 36 

Naming Him 37 

A Baby at the Party 38 

Baby’s First Christmas 39 

When Grandma Comes 40 

Supplanted 41 

The Occasional Anguish of Bedtime 42 

Taking Brother’s Picture 43 

Evening in the Pantry 44 


7 


<£ontentjS 


Page 

In Winter Time 45 

Running Away from Home 46 

Speaking the First Piece 47 

His First Affair 48 

A Rainy Picnic Day 49 

Playing in the Barn . 50 

Playing Doctor 51 

The First Hair Cut 52 

The Rider 55 

Omniscience . 56 

Sprinkling the Baby 57 

Interrupting 58 

A Busy Morning . 60 

At One Week Old 63 

Her Gift 64 

The Old Question. 65 

In Slumberland 66 

First Steps 67 

Afraid 68 

Where Dreams are Made 69 

Picture Books 70 

The Toy Soldiers 71 

The Weather Man 72 

The Pooh-Pooh Bird 73 

Spirits 75 

The Playmate 77 

Ambushed 78 

Sceptics 80 

A Milk Toast 83 

After School 84 

Ambrosia 87 

A Rondeau of Babies 88 

Goldilocks and the Bears 91 

Red Riding Hood 96 

Cinderella 102 

Hensel and Grethel 113 


8 


IRbsmes of OLlttle jfolk 



THE MONARCH 


T AM lord of the land and the sea, 

^ I am king of the jungle and cave; 

Wild animals cringe at my knee, 

And fish at my word swim the wave. 

I fearlessly crawl ’neath the bed, 

Where teddy-bears lurk in the dark; 

Or I hunt the dim closet instead, 

Where roam all the beasts of the ark. 

I am lord of the sea and the shore, 

On carnage I gaze unafraid; 

I shrink not at squeak or at roar, — 

I know how such noises are made. 

I stride through my nursery domain, 

And the bathtubby ocean I scan; 

While faithfully march in my train 
Weird creatures of cotton and bran. 


9 


Ituomsfetent 


INCONSISTENT 

/P T^HEY say I ’m a darling, and Joy-of- 
^ the-House, 

They call me their Precious, and Ducky, 
and Lamb; 

I ’m Bunny, and Honey, and Dear Little 
Mouse, 

And nothing ’s too good for me, imp that 
I am. 


My fingers and toes are so chubby and fat. 
My nose is so dear, and my hair is like 
silk, — 

But if they do love me as much as all that, 
Why can’t I have sugar in my bread and 
milk? 


io 


®f)e Bog’s ®urn 


THE DOG’S TURN 

HEY ’RE at me all the day, 

^ There ’s not an hour between ! 

I have no time for play — 

I think they ’re very mean. 

For every minute ’s taken up in being gotten 
clean. 

They wash and clean and scrub, 

Although I ’ve clothes to wear ; 

All day they comb and rub, 

And brush my teeth and hair. 

At five o’clock I have a bath while grown 
folks come and stare. 

Now, Pete! Don’t leave this spot 
Until I ’ve gotten through. 

The things that hurt a lot 
Are what is best for you — 

I guess what ’s good for baby boys is good 
for doggies too. 


ii 


JStoofas 


BOOKS 

*T^HE rows of letters on the page 

Can talk, for grown-ups tell me so; 
But pictures tell me, at my age, 

Quite all the things I need to know. 


But when there are no pictures there, 
(And many books are made that way) 
I open pages anywhere 

And guess at what the letters say. 


12 


•jfJrapersf 


PRAYERS 

TI7HEN it is bedtime every day, 

** I show my children how to pray ; 
I never scold or even frown 
Whenever any tumble down, 

But I am patient as can be 
And make them copy after me. 

Their prayers are very short indeed — 
There is so little that they need. 


13 


ambition 


AMBITION 

T ’ VE shoed my horse and fed my cow. 
And I am mending houses now; 

I think I ’ll be, when I am old, 

A farmer or a blacksmith bold. 

Unless I find that I prefer 
To be sometimes a carpenter. 

I ’ve learned so much, though I am small, 
Perhaps I ’ll grow to be them all. 


14 


“SBoea: jHp fflotfjcr Want Jlle ? ” 


“DOES MY MOTHER WANT 
ME?” 

"T^ANDELION, Fuzzy-top, must I stop 
my play? 

Do you s’pose my mother thinks I ’m too 
long away? 

I had planned a lot of things I must do to- 
day. 

I was chasing butterflies when you made 
me stop. 

People say you are so wise, Fairy Fuzzy- 
top! 

Dandelion, Fuzzy-top, won’t you tell me • 
true? 

Must I hurry home again, ’fore my play is 
through? 

Seems as if I had about a million things to 
do! 

Sunny days are all so short, — and that is 
why, you see, 

I Ve really got to know at once if mother ’s 
wanting me. 


jWotfjer Slants i«le 


MOTHER WANTS ME 

^T'ELL me what time it is, wise little 
“*■ flower ! 

Answer me truthfully, now when I blow. 
Off goes your bonnet to show me the hour, 
All your white feathers go flying like 
snow. 

Off goes your bonnet — and plainly you 
say, 

“ Mother is wanting you, hurry away ! ” 
Mother is wanting me, so I must run, 
But there ’s so much in this garden to do ! 

Not more than half of my playing done. 
Why did I ever ask questions of you? 


16 


®fje £§>pp 


THE SPY 

"^TESTERDAY mother she spanked me 
* so hard, 

I sort of keep feeling it now; 

For somehow she learned, when I hid in 
the yard, 

That I ’d done what she did n’t allow. 

I asked how she knew that I ’d gone and 
been bad, 

And she said that a little bird told her I 
had. 

It ’s always some bird that has tattled be- 
fore, 

And helped grown-up folks to find out; 

And now when I ’ve just shut the jam- 
closet door 

I find you a-hopping about! 

And if you ’re the bird that ’s been doing 
all that, 

I ’ll find where you live, an’ I ’ll tell my old 
cat. 


i7 


3 mttle <gtrl anb a |DusSp=Cat 


A LITTLE GIRL AND A 
PUSSY-CAT 

S AID a little girl to a pussy-cat: 

“It’s jolly to make you play! 

How soft you purr when I stroke your fur. 
And your claws are all tucked away! 

I love you ever so much for that,” 

Said a little girl to a pussy-cat. 

“ But oh, there ’s a terrible thing I ’ve heard, 
That brings great sorrow to me: 

You killed a poor little baby bird 
That lived in our apple-tree. 

You can’t be dear to me, after that,” 

Said a little girl to a pussy-cat. 

“ O little maid,” said the pussy-cat, 

“ You are gentle and kind, they say, 

To bird and beast, but did n’t you feast 
On chicken for lunch to-day? 

And are n’t there feathers upon your hat, 
O little maid? ” said the pussy-cat. 

18 


Si lUttle (girl anli a ^ussip=Cat 


“ Oh, I ’ll be I, and you ’ll be you. 

As long as this world shall be. 

If you ’ll be as good as you can for you, 
I ’ll try to be good for me. 

So let ’s be friends and agree to that, 

O little maid ! ” said the pussy-cat. 


19 


jWotfjer’g ©ap <2£>ut 


MOTHER’S DAY OUT 

W HEN I was quite a little boy 

I learned to put myself to bed; 
I put away each book and toy, — 
’Twas such a help, my mother said. 
And now I never even mind 
The clothes that button up behind. 

Since I was six I Ve grown so large 
That days when mother needs a rest 
She puts small sister in my charge, 
And I can get her all undressed. 

I even hear her say her prayers, 

And no one needs to come upstairs. 

When mother has a lot to do 
On any morning, if I choose 
Then I can dress my sister, too. 

And even button up her shoes. 

I *m always such a help, you see, 

My mother ’s very proud of me. 


20 


€bentngg 


EVENINGS 

/^\N cold, dark winter evenings, 
outdoors a wind storm sings; 

You hear a window rattle 

and a dead limb creaks and swings, 
And grown-ups sit around the fire 
and talk of diff’runt things. 

But I just fool around and grin, 
it feels so nice and snug, 

Till pretty soon I go and get 
my favorite book, and lug 
It near the fire, and stretch out 
on my stomach on the rug. 

Then by and by my mother 
raps her thimble on my head 
And says, “ Why, boy, it ’s getting late ! 
Come, run along to bed.” 

Evenings in the summer, 
when it ’s just as light as day, 

With chirpy noises in the trees, 
and sounds from far away, 


21 


Abettings 


And a sort of warm and grassy smell 
that makes you want to play; 

Why, then the boys come chasing round 
and whistle at the gate, 

And I slip off before I ’m seen, 
or mother hollers “Wait! 

Go get your hat, and promise you ’ll 
be back before it ’s late ! ” 

Those summer nights it ’s father who 
gets after me instead, 

And calls me through the darkness, 

“ Boy ! Skip right along to bed.” 

I think the morning’s pretty long, 
especially in school; 

And afternoon has time enough 
to suit me, as a rule; 

But evenings they are always short, 
in winter, spring, or fall, 

And every time of year I like 
the evenings best of all. 


22 


®ea=$artte£ 


TEA-PARTIES 

T SHOULD enjoy, if I was let, 

^ Tea-parties nearly ev’ry day. 

It is the nicest kind of play — 

With dishes from the kitchen set, 

And all the cookies we can get, 

And tea that ’s made the cambric way. 
I usurally like to stay 
Until the food has all been et. 

And then, although I ’m really glad 
To leave, it ’s more polite, you know, 

To say : “ My dear, it makes me sad, 

But I must call my dolls and go.” 

(I ’m glad my manners are n’t as bad 
As them of other girls I know!) 


2 3 


2 JHotfjer’s Cares 


A MOTHER’S CARES 

A MOTHER has so many cares 
There ’s little time to play. 

She ’s combing out the snarly hairs, 
Or darning holes or mending tears, 
Or kissing hurts or soothing scares 
All through the live-long day. 


But I and mother often say, 
Though tiring duties heap 
Upon our shoulders as they may, 
The nicest duty of the day 
Is when we ’ve put the toys away 
And rock our babes to sleep. 


24 


Jfebttme i§>torieg 


BEDTIME STORIES 


A LL the very nicest things 
In the stories grandma told, 

All the giant-killers bold, 

All the fairy folk with wings, 

Some in prose and some in rhyme. 
Happened “ Once-upon-a-time.” 


And I wished with all my heart 
Once-upon-a-time was now! 

For I made a solemn vow 
I ’d have taken mighty part 

In those deeds of prose and rhyme, 
Of that once-upon-a-time. 


25 


Christmas fWormng 


CHRISTMAS MORNING 

T T ESTERDAY I tore some lace — stuck 
my finger through it; 

Day before I made a face — no one saw 
me do it. 

Once I splattered with the ink — got my 
dress all spotted, 

And there ’s other things I think that I 
have forgotted. 

Do you s’pose HE came last night? I was 
always taught he 

Would n’t bring a single mite to a child 
that ’s naughty ! 

But I guess if Santy’s house has some chil- 
dren in it, 

They ’re not quiet as a mouse every single 
minute. 

And I guess that Mrs. Claus told him, if 
he let her, 

Not to blame this child, because his are n’t 
any better! 


26 


®je Cljetufa 


THE CHERUB 

T F that ’s a cherub, I don’t see why 
They ever should call me one: 

My face ain’t round like an apple pie, 

An’ I have n’t a couple of wings to fly, 

But legs that ’ll jump an’ run. 

If that ’s a cherub, it seems to me, 

There ’s nicer things that a boy could be. 

If cherubs are really made just so, 

Then how can they ever play? 

There is n’t a place but clouds to go, 

Or just keep fluttering to and fro, 

Or stand on their chins all day. 

I s’pose it ’s easy to soil a cloud, 

And people with feet are not allowed. 

If I was really a cherub, though, 

’T would be sort of fun to fly. 

And parents would n’t keep teasing so 
If I ’d been out in the rain or snow, 

To see if my feet was dry. 

And if I ate loads of pie and cake, 

Then all outdoors could have stomach ache. 


27 


Mv kittle Bog ani) JHc 


MY LITTLE DOG AND ME 

M Y little dog knows just as much 
As lots of people do. 

He can’t do sums, er three times three, 
Er read er write like you an’ me, — 
But what ’s the use of sums an’ such 
I never really knew. 


Of course he ain’t a cherabim, — 

He ’s playful as can be ! 

He don’t shut doors er wipe his feet. 
An’ maybe he ’s not always neat ; 
But people that don’t care fer him 
Don’t hafter care fer me. 


28 


Jftcfele 


FICKLE 

TVTEW dolly, you are very sweet! 

With lips, an’ teeth, an’ truly hair! 
And you can bend your hands an’ feet, 
Instead of sprawling here an’ there. 
And you can close your eyes up tight, 
Instead of staring, day an’ night. 


I am so very proud of you 

I know now just how mother feels, 
When I am dressed my nicest, too, 
And there is company to meals. 

Us mothers take a lot of pride 
In pretty children at our side. 


I think I ’ll call you Anna Belle, — 

You mustn’t let it make you vain, — 
Or maybe you are Lady Nell; 

My rag-doll’s name was only Jane. 

I hope she won’t feel bad, but — well — 
I re’lize, now, that she was plain. 


29 


&egpotuitMitieg 


RESPONSIBILITIES 

T ’VE learned to say my evening prayers 
^ While nurse is waiting in the hall; 

I have so many heavy cares 
I like to think about them all. 


I tell what mischief I ’ve been in, 

And every night I never fail 
To tell all little brother’s sin, 

And no one calls me “tattle tale.” 


30 


£s>oap ^Bubbles 


SOAP BUBBLES 

TF I knew magic, and could do 
^ Just anything I wanted to, 

I ’d blow a bubble strong and wide 
Enough for me to get inside. 


We ’d sail far up into the blue, 

And when it burst and went away, 

I ’d visit — for a day or two — 

The place where vanished bubbles play. 


3i 


ENVY 


*T % HERE are lizards in the pool, 

^ Pollywogs and fishes fleet; 
Swimming where it ’s wet and cool. 
Finding tiny things to eat. 

They don’t have to go to school. 
They can always wet their feet. 
P’raps it gives them extra joy 
’Cause they ’re not a little boy. 


32 


& Jtlotfjer’s I?opcs; 


A MOTHER’S HOPES 


S OMETIMES my mother confesses, 

If she smiles when she ’s making my 
clo’se, 

That she ’s sewing fond hopes in my dresses, 
And weaving sweet dreams as she sews. 


And so, when I ’m stitching and mending, 
And all my doll’s dresses I sew, 

I smile to myself while pretending 

The things they will do when they grow. 


33 


ironing Dap 


IRONING DAY 

T DON’T see why the grown-ups care 
Each time they find a rip or tear, 

And seem to feel so badly, just 
Because my clothes get soiled and mussed. 


My children keep too clean and neat, — 
And dirty dollies are a treat. 

I find it quite the nicest play 
To wash and iron every day. 


34 


®be Jfisfjetman 


THE FISHERMAN 

T ’VE sitted here for days and days 
^ And have n’t caught a thing ; 

I ’ve tried a lot of diff’rent ways 
Of jiggling the string, 

I ’ve held the pole as still and firm 
As anyone could wish. 

I don’t believe my angle worm 
Has seen a single fish! 


35 


HJtuorugtble 


INCORRIGIBLE 

I GUESS I ’m bad as I can be, 

’Cause after uncle found and yanked me 
Out of that old apple-tree, 

And after dad came home and spanked 
me, 

And while my teacher told me things 
About the narrow path of duty, 

And how an education brings 
The only truly joy and beauty, 

And while she said she did n’t doubt 

They ’d wasted all the good they ’d 
taught me, 

I had to grin, to think about 

The fun I had before they caught me. 


36 


JJaming ©im 


NAMING HIM 

TTOU’D think, while they’re trying to 
find me a name 

That I ’d have a right to a part in the game ! 

Through most of the morning my father 
has said 

Just nothing but Aaron, while mother, in- 
stead, 

Would settle her family name on my head; 

Meanwhile they forget that I have n’t been 
fed! 


37 


a Pa hp at tfje Pattp 


A BABY AT THE PARTY 

T FOUND one night, when I awoke, 
They ’d brought me down the stair 
To show me to some noisy folk 
Who were all eating there. 

Such silly things they did and said, 

I cried the louder for my bed. 


38 


J^abp’si Jfitst Christmas 


BABY’S FIRST CHRISTMAS 

'T^HEY took away my bottle 
^ And they gave me toys and drums, — 
I wonder do they act like that 
Whenever Christmas comes? 

I ’m glad it ’s only once a year 
They make such noises in my ear. 


39 


Wfjen (granbma Comes 


WHEN GRANDMA COMES 

# T^HERE ’S never any noise or fuss 
When Grandma comes to visit us. 
She always knows just what to do, 

For me and for my mother too. 

And it ’s so peaceful here at rest 
All snuggled up against her breast. 


40 


feupplanteb 


SUPPLANTED 

S EEMS zif everything nice is done 
Just for that newest kid. 

Once, when I was the youngest one, 

I never got spanked or chid. 

I ’ve pricked his leg with a pin, for fun, — 
I ’m awfully glad I did ! 


4i 


®t >c Occasional Sngutsfj of JBelittmc 


THE OCCASIONAL ANGUISH 
OF BEDTIME 

TTTHEN it is sister’s party night, 

^ ^ It ’s hard to have to go 
Straight off to bed. It isn’t right! 

You’d think they ought to know, — 
Or maybe no one loves us, and 
That’s why they treat us so. 


42 


®atdng JBrotfjer’s: picture 


TAKING BROTHER’S 
PICTURE 

TTE felt quite miser’ble, I know, 

^ Dressed in his Sunday best ; 
They pinched his head and sat him so 
He was uncomfyest. 

And then that silly picture-man 
Said “Look as pleasant as you can ! ” 


43 


Abetting tn tfje ^anttp 


EVENING IN THE PANTRY 

TT ’S lots more fun to eat a pie 

When grown-ups are not sitting by; 
And jam and tarts and all such stuff, — 
Then you can really eat enough. 

But we ’re afraid there ’s much too few 
For now and for to-morrow too! 


44 


3fn Winter ®ime 


IN WINTER TIME 

winter time is extra nice — 
We run and slide upon the ice, 
Or build a snow-man, fat and tall; 
But coasting is the best of all. 

The baby is so soft and plump 
We put him first, in case we bump. 


Running from Home 


RUNNING AWAY FROM 
HOME 

T WAS so certain yesterday 
It would be fun to run away; 

It never once occurred to me 
How dreadful lonesome it would be. 
And if this really is a cow 
I ’ll hurry home to mother now. 


46 


Speaking tfje Jftcst $Jiece 


SPEAKING THE FIRST 
PIECE 

TT’S hard, when I ’m dressed up so nice, 
^ And have my piece so well prepared, 

To have them sit as still as mice, 

And know that I am getting scared. 

You can’t expect a child like me 
To know her pieces perfectly. 


47 


Jlte Jf irfit Sffatr 


HIS FIRST AFFAIR 


T TOLD Eliza Mary Ann 

We ’d marry when I was a man. 

I told her just how glad she ’d be 
To marry such a man as me. 

But now we ’ve quarrelled, guess that I 
Will go to war, and maybe die. 


48 


8 &ainp picnic Bap 


A RAINY PICNIC DAY 

TT’S raining — raining hard as cats and 
* dogs, 

It always did when days we planned for 
came. 

I wish that we were ducks or little frogs, 
Then we could have our picnic just the 
same. 

It seems zif little children’s pleasure days 
Could be put off in such a lot of ways. 


49 


•Paying in tfje Pam 


PLAYING IN THE BARN 



HE barn’s the nicest place to play: 


* I guess ’t was meant for little boys. 
You shout and tumble in the hay, 

With nobody to mind the noise. 

And there ’s an awful dang’rous swing 
That flies as high as anything! 


50 


Plaping Doctor 


PLAYING DOCTOR 

S OME day I ’ll be a doctor-man, 
So now I practise all I can. 

We caught the cat, and Rover, too, 
And tried to act as doctors do. 

But baby howled and spoiled it all, 
By bringing Aunty from the hall. 


®be Jfmst l&ait Cut 


THE FIRST HAIR CUT 

J IMMY’S had a hair cut! 

How the folks all stare. 

It ’s so short you see his skin 
Showing through his hair. 

’T was n’t like he ’d had before, 

Cut around a bowl; 

It was in that barber-store 
By the candy pole. 


Jimmy ’s had a hair cut! 

We was there to see, 

Peeking through the window-pane,—- 
All the boys and me. 

He looked worried there alone, 
Trying hard to grin, 

On a kind of great big throne 
Wrapped up to his chin. 


52 


®()e jfirsit ©air Cut 


Jimmy’s had a hair cut! 

’Course it scared him some. 

All those shears and cups and things 
Sort of struck him dumb. 

My, I wished that I was him 
Sitting there instead, 

Looking like a cherubim. 

Showing just my head. 


Wish I ’d had my hair cut 
By a shiney man, 

Telling grown-up jokes and such 
While his snippers ran. 

Jimmy’s mother saved a curl, — 
She feels bad, I know, 

That he was n’t born a girl 
And could let them grow. 


Jimmy ’s had a hair cut, — 
My! It made him proud! 
Walking out, while all of us 
Followed in a crowd. 


S3 


®fje Jfirstt l&ait Cut 


He got pretty rich that day 
’Fore he went to bed, 
Making every fellow pay 
Just to smell his head. 


54 


&il>er 


THE RIDER 

TI7E ’VE rode a thousand miles or more, 
* * My horse and I, across the floor. 
And when I Ve gone another mile 
I ’ll maybe let him rest awhile. 


My mother thinks this horse by far 
The best of all the steeds there are; 
For though I gallop all the day 
I don’t get very far away. 


55 


©mnfectetue 


OMNISCIENCE 

T ’VE been to school at least a hundred 
days 

Or maybe more; 

My brother, he just stays at home and 
plays, — 

He ’s only four. 


I ’m old. I know that gnomes and elves 
and such 
Are just a fraud. 

There ’s no one ’cept my daddy knows so 
much, 

And, maybe, God. 


56 


Sprinkling tfjc JSabp 


SPRINKLING THE BABY 

T% /T Y mother says I ’m much too small 
m To have a garden of my own. 

She says I take no pains at all 

To tend my plants, from spring to fall; 

That ’s why they have n’t grown. 

She says they can’t get tall and strong 
Unless they ’re watered right along. 


I want to let my mother know 
That I can truly do a lot. 

I ’m big enough to help, and so 
I ’m making baby sister grow, — 

She ’s such a tiny tot. 

And things won’t grow, the folks all say. 
Unless they ’re watered every day. 


57 


Kntertupttng 


INTERRUPTING 

/ T'HEY say it ’s wrong to interrupt when 
^ someone talks to you, 

But I don’t do it near as much as grown-up 
people do; 

For while I ’m telling Mother some im- 
portant piece of news 

She is counting up my buttons or examin- 
ing my shoes. 

And just when I have gotten to the most 
exciting part, 

And she ought to pay attention to my 
words with all her heart, 

All at once she says, “Come here! 

I very greatly fear 

A button ’s coming off your clothes, and 
I must fix it, dear.” 


It’s just the same with Father, — he’s no 
better, I ’m afraid. 

I always want him to admire important 
things I ’ve made. 


Sntemiptmg 


But when I start to show him, so that he 
will understand 

Where I nailed it or I sawed it, and just 
how I worked and planned, 

He ’ll nod his head, and say “ Indeed ! ” in 
an attentive way, 

And act as if he saw it, but then like as 
not he ’ll say, 

Just when I ’ve got a-going, 

“ My boy, your nose needs blowing 
Which proves he does n’t hear, nor even 
look at what I ’m showing. 


59 


& iHlorntng 


A BUSY MORNING 

O NE morning mother had to be away 
And nurse forgot me for a little while ; 
Oh, when I get to thinking of that day 
I lie quite still and shut my eyes and 
smile. 

Then grown-ups say, “ He sleeps, the little 
dear! 

And dreams an angel whispers in his ear.” 


It really is n’t often such a chance 
Can come to such a little chap as me. 

To get away from every watchful glance 
And just start out to see what I can see ; 
To feel of things, and pound with all my 
might, 

And learn which ones to break and which 
to bite. 


It ’s true I often wish I had n’t tried 
To see just what was in that little jug; 
60 


3 Jtep jfflor ning 


I spoiled a dress that was my special pride, 
And made a dreadful black spot on the 
rug. 

It was n’t all my fault, for I should think 
A tippy table was no place for ink. 


One memory I always shall enjoy, 

Though I was spanked for doing it, alas! 
I pounded hard that other little boy 

Who made up faces at me from a glass. 
He frowned and stuck his tongue out, and 
it ’s true 

That those are things no proper child 
should do. 


It ’s strange that in the rooms where 
grown-ups stay 

There should be such a lot of useless 
waste ; 

So many things that are no good for play. 
And almost nothing that is good to taste. 
And everywhere there is so much you find 
That gets you into trouble of some kind. 

61 


3 Step iWornmg 


It is n’t fair that they should always keep 
The nicest looking things so out of reach. 
The road to some is very long and steep, 
But on that day I got a chance at each. 
And so I lie and dream, and smile and — 
wait. 

I ’ve had one day of life, at any rate. 


62 


9t © ne Meek ©lb 


AT ONE WEEK OLD 

TTE will be straight and strong and fair, 
^ ^ With eyes that have a laughing flash ; 
A rumple always in his hair, 

And — if he likes — a short mustache. 


His voice must be a grumbly bass, — 
With nearly all his father’s charm. 
And when we stroll about the place 
I ’ll love to lean upon his arm ! 


And when he marries some nice girl — 
Oh me ! he ’ll do it soon, I fear — 

I ’m sure she ’ll love the little curl 
Like that behind his daddy’s ear! 


63 


Her 4£ift 


HER GIFT 

TTER eyes, Her mouth, Her chin, so 

^ strangely small, 

Her very hands, in such frail likeness 
made. 

That one caress it seems might crush them 
all, 

And so I gaze, and wonder, half afraid. 

So wee a gift — yet wealth of many lands 
Could never buy it in the richest marts! 

So frail a gift — and yet those baby hands 
Take mighty hold upon two human 
hearts ! 


64 


®lje ©lb ©uesstton 


THE OLD QUESTION 

T ITTLE hands that hold so tightly 
To the guardian of your fate! 

Tiny feet that press so lightly 

’Neath your fearsome feather-weight! 

Who am I to guard you rightly? 

Who am I to guide you straight? 

Though a stranger, snug you nestle, 

And my yearning heart o’erwhelm, 

While your wee mind seems to wrestle 
With the lore of some far realm. 

I have launched so frail a vessel. 

Who may point its tiny helm? 

Did I rend some world asunder. 

Stealing you to fill my lack, — 

I, who must so often blunder, 

Groping blind up this world’s track? 

Still you gaze in round-eyed wonder, 
While I gaze in wonder back! 

65 


3n iplumberlanti 


IN SLUMBERLAND 

W HERE is the road to Slumberland? 
Just rest your cheek upon your 
hand, 

And press your pillow hard, and say 
Good-night to all the world of Day; 
Breathe deep — and, presto ! you will stand 
Upon the shores of Slumberland. 

All sounds are songs in Slumberland — 
The rhyme of waves upon the sand, 

The whisp’ring boughs, the droning 
breeze, 

And dreams are blossoming on the trees; 
They only wait your gathering hand, 

Wee visitor to Slumberland. 

And all you meet in Slumberland 
Obedient and expectant stand; 

The birds and beasts, the gnomes and 
elves, 

The sun and moon and stars themselves. 
All wait to heed your least command, 
While You are king in Slumberland. 


66 


jftrsrt ibtqps 


FIRST STEPS 

T IKE a desert vast and cheerless 
Stretch the nurs’ry lands. 

Who could gaze with vision fearless 
O’er those trackless sands? 

Though there waits a shelter peerless 
Mother’s reaching hands! 


Eyes alight with exultation, 

Lips that shape a shout; 

Just a flutt’ring hesitation, 

Just a sigh of doubt. 

Dare — and launch a generation ! 
Sturdy legs, step out! 


67 


Sfraib 


AFRAID 

T ITTLE noises do not bite! 

Darkness will not harm you! 
See, my arms will hold you tight 
When wee fears alarm you. 


Wise ones say I do you wrong 
Facing dangers for you; 

You will not grow brave and strong 
With me bending o’er you. 


But the time is all too brief 
When some pain or other, 
And each baby fear and grief 
Drive you to your mother! 


68 


Mfjere Dreams are JWabe 


WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE 

D REAMS are made in the moon, my 
dear, 

On her shining hillsides steep; 

Pleasant and dreadful and gay and queer. 
They ’re piled in a silver heap. 

And many fairies with buzzing wings 
Are busy with hammers and wheels and 
things, 

Making the dreams that Night-time brings 
To all little boys asleep. 


And if a boy has been good till night, 
When snug in his bed he lies 
The fairies come with a moonbeam bright 
And slide him up to the skies. 

And there he sails as the Moon-king’s guest, 
And chooses the dreams he likes the best; 
Then they slide him back to his nurs’ry nest 
And leave him rubbing his eyes. 


69 


picture Poofcs 


PICTURE BOOKS 

A LL the world is freshly tinted 
For the eyes of each new child; 
For his joy new sunbeams glinted, 
Castle-clouds were reared and piled. 
Nature, spreading arts unstinted, 

Was rewarded when he smiled. 


All the lore of all the ages, — 

Colors stolen from the skies, 
Wrought by painters, poets, sages, 
Have attained their richest prize 
If on oft-read, thumb-worn pages 
They delight the children’s eyes. 


70 


®be ®oj> ^oliiictsi 


THE TOY SOLDIERS 

S LEEP on, Little Boy, and sleep se- 
cure — 

All day you have played so hard! 

Your little feet that have romped and 
strayed, 

Your head that has planned the games we 
played, 

May rest, while we all keep guard. 

Sleep on, Little Boy, your rest is sure — 
What though we are battle-scarred; 

The love you ’ve lavished on us all day 
Will more than do for a soldier’s pay! 
Sleep, then, for we all keep guard. 


7i 


®f )t Weatfjer JWan 


THE WEATHER MAN 

W ATCHMAN, tell us of the day, — 
Is it fit for noble deeds? 

Does it call you to the fray? 

Or the sort of morn that breeds 
Poet- thoughts along the way? 


Watchman, do you gaze upon 

Skies of hope, or clouds of doubt? 
Faint the answer came, anon — 

“ Mother says I can’t go out 
’Less I put my rubbers on.” 


72 


®fje $3oofj-$oofj Jgtrb 


THE POOH-POOH BIRD 

Y OU ’VE often heard 

The Pooh-Pooh Bird, — 

Don’t hesitate to take my word! 

Yet like myself you ’ve never seen it, 

For human gaze would but demean it. 

To hide from sight 
Is its delight, 

And so it mostly flies by night, 

And all its life its chief of joys is 
To frighten folks with spooky noises. 

When lamps are lit. 

And lone you sit 

A-watching firelight shadows flit, 

Some creaky sound will set you squirmin’, 
Whose whereabouts you can’t determine. 

’T is thieves perhaps — those furtive taps ! 
Hark — there again! Your courage saps; 
’T is now upstairs, and now the basement, 
And now outside against the casement. 


73 


®f)e Poof)=Poof) JSirb 


But take my word. 

Those sounds you heard 

Are nothing but the Pooh-Pooh Bird, 

Who flits for fun ’round silent houses, 

And some lone watcher’s fear arouses. 

If you would fright 
This bird to flight, 

Just cry “Pooh Pooh!” with all your 
might. 

You ’ll find your courage quite recovered, 
And he will flee when thus discovered. 


74 


g>ptrtte 


SPIRITS 

Q^EE that apple, ripe and ruddy. 

There on yonder lofty shelf 

In the corner of my study 
I can scarcely reach, myself. 

Only yesterday I bought it, 

Tempted by its rosy glow; 

Though my little ones besought it, 

’T was intended just for show. 

They are babes so frail and tender. 

They ’re so innocent and young ; 

Who could but be their defender 
’Gainst malicious slander’s tongue! 

On the cheek of yonder apple 
There ’s a scar that lately came. 

Oh for wisdom fit to grapple 

With the question — Who’s to blame? 

There are little tooth-marks in it. 

Yet it has not moved at all. 

I was absent scarce a minute — 

They ’re so innocent and small ! 


75 


Spirits! 


Can it be that spirits haunt us, 

Leaving tooth-marks here and there? 
Playing idle pranks to taunt us, 

Marking footprints on a chair? 

They are babes so frail and tender. 
Far too wee for sin or guile; 

Who could but be their defender? 

I must ponder for a while. 


* 


76 


®()e ^lapmate 


THE PLAYMATE 

I BARKED beneath his window, “ Come 
and play ! 99 

I scratched so lightly at his nursery door. 
I whimpered softly in the passageway — 
He never failed to answer me before. 


I ’ve saved the willow whip his fingers 
peeled ; 

The stick he used to throw is by the pool ; 
The butterflies are waiting in the field 
Beside the grassy path that led to school. 


It is so long since last we romped and ran. 
How proud I was to guard his door of 
late! 

I ’ve called to him in every way I can. 
There ’s nothing left to do but wait — 
and wait. 


77 


gmtiujsfjeti 


AMBUSHED 

P EACE and safety seem to dwell 
Where my garden grows; 

I ’ve no moat nor citadel 
Where I find repose. 

Yet I dread the sudden yell 
Of some lurking eager foes! 


Silence bids me feel secure, 

As I wander out. 

Weeds and worms and bugs obscure 
Are the foes I rout. 

Yet a premonition sure 

Warns that redskins are about! 


Hark! a hoot-owl — ’t is the cry 
Indians used of yore. 

Stealthy footfalls, creeping nigh, 

Thrill me to the core. 

Late! Too late! They’ve scurried by, 
Gaining first my open door. 


ambusfjeti 


Savage redskins, bent on loot, 

Start with gingerbread; 

Victors now, beyond dispute, 

They will scalp me dead. 

Indians , if you really shoot, 

You 'll be spanked and sent to bed. 


79 


gkepttc* 


SCEPTICS 

TTTHEN your old dad was as little as 
^ ^ you 

Was he likely to do 

What they wanted him to? 

Why, certainly so ! And as quick as a wink 

He did as they bid him before you could 
think. 

Hey! Hey? 

What do you say? 

What makes you keep winking and grin- 
ning that way? 

Your uncle’s been “ tellin’ you sumthin’ ”? 
Dear, dear! 

You mustn’t believe all the stories you 
hear. 

When dad and his playmates were nice little 
boys 

The first of their joys 

Was giving their toys 


80 


gkepttcs 


To poor little children who needed them 
more; 

Your dad was so good he gave all of his 
store. 

Hey! Hey? 

What do you say? 

Your mother has some of 'em now, put 
away? 

Such nerve was unknown in my day ! — 
I ’ll be bound 

You imps have been snooping and prying 
around. 


When daddy was young he was deaf, dumb, 
and blind 

To pranks unrefined; 

He ’d a serious mind. 

He paid no attention to girls and their 
looks, 

But gave all his time to his tasks and his 
books. 

Hey! Hey? 

What do you say? 


81 


gkepticg 


Yes, mother was raised in the very same 
way. 

You found an old letter and read it? — 
My Scat! 

We used to spank children for mischief 
like that. 


82 


3 jMfe ®oasst 


A MILK TOAST 

C OME, fill your glasses brimming up 
And raise them overhead! 

I ’ll pledge a toast before I sup, 

So hasten with the foaming cup, — 

It ’s nearly time for bed ! 


I sing not of the ruby wine, — 

My years do not allow; 

Though grown-ups praise the fruitful vine, 
Clink glasses to this toast of mine, — 
Long live the Mooley Cow! 


83 


Sfter H>cf)ool 


AFTER SCHOOL 

TT’S strange to think how much may 

^ come from just a little thing; 

Just as they tell you mighty oaks from 
little acorns spring. 

My Grandpa says a kettle once boiled up 
a bit too free 

And if it had n’t, so he says, there ’d not be 
any Me! 

Then Grandma lays her knitting down, and 
says in tones severe, 

“ Don’t talk such nonsense to that child, — 
his bedtime ’s very near.” 

“ Why, I remember,” Grandpa says, “ as 
if ’t was yesterday, 

That kettle setting on the stove and bub- 
bling away, 

While twenty pairs of youngsters’ eyes 
would watch it dance and hum, 

Instead of conning alphabets or figgering a 
sum. 


84 


Sifter g>d)ool 


Then suddenly I recollect that kettle lid 
went pop! 

And water ran all down the stove as if 
’t would never stop; 

And two young people laughed out loud, 
which was against the rule. 

And so the master chided ’em and kept 
’em after school. 

“ Now one of those young laughers was a 
very shy young lad, 

And ’t other was a little girl, — the pretti- 
est they had. 

Hey, Grandma! ’Member how the boys 
all waited on the fence?” 

“ I did n’t hear you,” Grandma says. “ Why 
don’t you talk some sense?” 

“ Ah me,” says Grandpa, “ there they sat 
about an hour or more, 

While that young lad scraped courage up 
he ’d never had before, — 

And wrote it down in billy-dous, — he 
must have written reams, — 

85 


lifter g>cf)0ol 


While Master polished up the stove and 
maybe dreamed his dreams. 

“ Ah me, that little school is gone,” says 
Grandpa, sighing hard; 

“ The woodland path they used to tread is 
now a boulevard. 

’Twas close to ninety years ago.” Cries 
Grandma, “ Sakes alive, 

You ought to really be ashamed, ’t was 
only sixty-five ! ” 

“ Ah well,” says Grandpa, “ those two 
chicks walked hand in hand that day, 

It grew to sech a habit that they could n’t 
break away. 

And then she married him. Just why, I ’ve 
often wondered sence, 

With all the other boys in town a-waiting 
on the fence. 

I guess she might n’t, if she ’d known he 
was n’t very rich ! ” 

And Grandma says, “ Oh, go to bed, — I ’ve 
dropped another stitch ! ” 


86 


Ambrosia 


AMBROSIA 

T HAVE sipped and supped and tasted 
**“ Of the food a poet sings; 

Rare exotic fauna, basted 

By some chef, the peer of kings. 
Cloyed, I ’ve thrown aside or wasted 
Nectar and ambrosial things. 


Though I sit amid the gleam of 

Damask, broadcloth, shimmering silk, — 
Crystal bowls that hold the cream of 
Nature’s stores of every ilk; 

Oft in yearning mood I dream of 
Boyhood’s bowl of bread-and-milk ! 


87 


g[ iEontieau of Rabies 


A RONDEAU OF BABIES 

A S you must know, some men there be 
Who like to hint that they are free 
From nurs’ry thralldom, so they cry, 

(As though to prove an alibi) 

“All babies look alike to me.” 

To such a man the Fates decree 

The storks shall come in groups of three, — 

It does no good to hide or fly, 

As you must know! 

All babies look alike? — Ah me. 

When they arrive, I well forsee 
He ’ll gain a more discerning eye, 

Or else he will discreetly try 
With wiser persons to agree, — 

As you must know. 


88 


FOUR NURSERY PLAYS 


















<©olbtlocfe£ anb tlie J?ear$ 


GOLDILOCKS AND THE 
BEARS 

SCENE I 

*T*IME: Not very long ago , 

Say about a year or so. 

Or, to be exact in rhyme, 

It was Once Upon a Time. 

Place : A cottage small that stood 
In a deep and shady wood; 

Near a brook, and mossy rocks. 
Enter Little Goldilocks. 

GOLDILOCKS 

Dearie me, I ’ve lost my way ! 

Oh, what will my mother say? 

I was told I must n’t roam 
While she is away from home. 

Now I ’m very much afraid 
She will find I ’ve disobeyed. 

It ’s so dark and still around me — 
S’pose they never, never found me! 
Look ! Is that a path I see 
Leading round that biggest tree? 

9i 


<£>oltiiloct;S anii tf)e Pears 


Yes! and there’s a cottage small 
Just behind a garden wall. 

There is no one home, I ’m certain, 
Closely drawn is every curtain. 

Yet the door is open wide: 

I must go and peep inside. 

SCENE II 

A half hour later, maybe more; 

Just within the cottage door. 

Enter Great Gruff Growly Bear, 
Sniffing with his nose in air; 

Mrs. Bear is close behind, 
Wondering what she will find. 

Little Bear is close behind them, 
Skips along and does n't mind them: 
Has no time to sniff and peer, 

When his supper time is near. 

BIG BEAR 

Mrs. Bear, please shut that door, 
There are foot-marks on the floor. 

MRS. BEAR 
I am sure it smells to me 
As though we had company! 


92 


<golbtlock£ anb tfje Shears; 


BIG BEAR 

See that rumpled tablecloth! 

Someone ’ s tasted of my broth! 

MRS. BEAR 

Well! Whatever shall we do? 

Mine was surely tasted too! 

LITTLE BEAR 

Where ’s my spoon and where ’s my cup? 
Someone ’s tasted mine all up ! 

FATHER BEAR 

Ho! Goroo! Look over there! 

Who ’s been sitting in my chair ? 

MRS. BEAR 

Ha ! Gurroo ! That ’s very true ! 

Someone sat in my chair too! 

LITTLE' BEAR 

Hi! Gurroo! And someone sat 
In my chair and smashed it flat! 

ALL TOGETHER 

Dear me suz! Such strange affairs! 

We must go and look upstairs! 


93 


(goltulocfea: anti tfje Pears! 


SCENE in 

In the cottage , second floor: 

Bears crowd through the bedroom door. 

BIG BEAR 

What does this mean? for I should say 
That someone tried my bed to-day! 

MRS. BEAR 

Also mine without a doubt! 

See the spread all tossed about! 

LITTLE BEAR 

My bed too! Someone got in it, 

And she ’s sleeping there this minute ! 

(< Goldilocks , poor sleepyhead, 

Waked by noises round her bed, 

Looks to see what is the matter, 

Finds Three Bears all looking at her.) 

GOLDILOCKS 

Oh! Oh! Oh! Where can I hide? 

There ’s a window open wide ! 

P’raps it ’s high — but I must jump. 
Ouch ! ’t was just a little bump ! 


94 


(PoIbilocUs atib tfjc Peats 


I ’ll run toward that bushy hollow 
And they won’t know where to follow. 
Oh! I hear my father call! 

Mother too, — and nurse and all! 
Hunting me among those rocks: 

Here I am ! Here ’s Goldilocks ! 
Mother dear, no more I ’ll roam 
When I ’m told to stay at home ! 


95 


3 &eb JUbtng Hoofc 


RED RIDING HOOD 


SCENE I 


HE scene: A cottage trim and neat , 



A A garden and a village street, 

The mother enters , kind and good, 

And with her comes Red Riding Hood. 


MOTHER 


It is so far to Granny’s, dear, 

And that dark forest lies so near, 

I hate to send you, but you know 
There ’s really no one else to go. 

I must have someone who will take 
This jelly and this bread and cake 
To poor old Granny who ’s been ill. 
You love her so, I ’m sure you will. 
So run your fastest — do not wait. 
But get back home before it ’s late. 


RED RIDING HOOD 


I ’ll hurry, mother, and what fun ! 
I ’m not afraid that anyone 
Would bother me this lovely day. 
I saw the woodsman go that way. 


JXeb 3atbins ©ooti 


If he ’s near Granny’s house, why then 
He ’ll see me safely home again. 

MOTHER 

Good-by then, child, I ’ll count the hours 
Until you’re back — don’t gather flowers 
Or wander after butterflies, 

But keep the path before your eyes. 

RED RIDING HOOD 
I ’ll watch my basket, mother dear, 

And soon be home — so do not fear. 

SCENE II 

The scene : A pathway through the wood, 
And yonder goes Red Riding Hood . 

Alas, her steps are lagging slow, 

So many pretty flowers grow 
Along the way, and butterflies 
Dance merrily before her eyes. 

She hears the woodsman chopping trees, 
The bushes rustle ! ’t is the breeze. 

She does not see that form of gray, — 
The Wolf — who hides beside the way . 


97 


&eb &tbmg; © oob 


RED RIDING HOOD 

What lovely blossoms, white and red, 

How well they ’d look by Granny’s bed. 
If mother could be here, I know 
She ’d say I need n’t hurry so. 

WOLF ( hiding ) 

Good afternoon, Red Riding Hood. 

What are you doing in my wood? 

RED RIDING HOOD 

Oh please, who are you? Do not scold! 

I meant to do as I was told, 

And hurry on, and never wait 
Until I reached my Granny’s gate. 

I ’ve only picked a flower or two 
Not knowing they belonged to you. 

WOLF 

Your Granny ’s sick — I’m sure it ’s best 
For you to leave her there to rest. 

Come, follow me, and we will go 
To where the finest flowers grow. 

98 


3 &eb 3&tbtng Sfoob 


RED RIDING HOOD 
Oh no ! I ’ll do as mother said, 

And run upon my way instead. 

And hark ! the woodsman must be 
through — 

It ’s surely later than I knew. 

SCENE III 

The daylight now begins to fade 
And faster runs the little maid. 

But though she makes no more delays, 
The gray wolf runs by shorter ways 
And gets to Granny's house before 
Red Riding Hood has reached the door. 
How glad she is on reaching there ! 

She hurries breathless up the stair, 

And never sees, amid the gloom, 

The old gray wolf in Granny's room. 

RED RIDING HOOD 

Dear grandmamma, see what I bring! 
This basket ’s packed with everything. 
Here ’s milk and eggs and bread and pies — 
But, grandmamma, how big your eyes! 
WOLF 

So much the easier to see! 


99 


3&eb JUtring ©ooii 


RED RIDING HOOD 

But oh, your voice is strange to me, 

And what a great big furry ear ! 

WOLF 

So much the better, child, to hear! 

RED RIDING HOOD 

But, grandmamma, your mouth ’s so wide, 
With such great shiny teeth inside! 

WOLF 

Since it is time for me to sup, 

The better, child, to eat you up! 

RED RIDING HOOD 
It is the wolf! Is no one near? 

I shall be killed! Help, help me here! 

SCENE IV 

Oh, lucky for the child that day 
The woodsman was not far away. 

He hears her cry and runs to aid 
The frightened, helpless little maid . 

WOODSMAN (, entering ) 

Hello! who’s there? From where I stood 
That sounded like Red Riding Hood! 


ioo 


&eb &tbtng ?^oob 


RED RIDING HOOD 

Help, help! the wolf! a moment more 
And he will crush this closet door! 

WOODSMAN 

The wolf? My enemy at last! 

Aha ! I ’ve got him cornered fast. 

My trusty ax will put an end 
To evil ways and jaws that rend. 

Now come, you ’re safe, Red Riding Hood. 
I ’m sure your mother long has stood 
And worried, waiting at her door. 

I ’ll see you to her side once more. 

RED RIDING HOOD 

But poor old Granny! we must wait 
To learn about her dreadful fate. 

WOODSMAN 

Your Granny? She went all the way 
To visit at your home to-day. 

She felt so well that I surmise 
She thought she ’d give them a surprise. 
I showed her through the woods from here. 
So come, Red Riding Hood, my dear. 


IOI 


Ctnberella 


CINDERELLA 

SCENE I 

'PHE scene: A kitchen plain hut bright . 
* The time : An early autumn night. 
Before the fire , with tumbled hair, 

Sits Cinderella in despair. 

And while the firelight shadows play, 

She hears her sisters’ laughter gay, 

And taunting voices in the hall, 

For they are starting for the ball. 

SISTERS ( without ) 

Good-night now, child. It may be late 
Before we ’re home, but you must wait 
To let us in. We ’ll need your aid, 
Although you ’re such a stupid maid. 

CINDERELLA 

Ah me ! They ’re gone and I ’m alone. 

It seems to me I ’ve never known 
The joy of just one pretty dress 
And just one day of idleness. 

If they had only let me go — 

I’d love the fun and dancing so! 


102 


Ctnberella 


Why does n’t some kind fairy come 
And wave her wand, say Fi Fo Fum, 

And send me, like a princess dressed. 

To join the dance and lead the rest. 
Hark! What ’s that tapping sound I hear? 
It ’s in the ashes — drawing near. 

My eyes are teary — can that be 
A wee old woman that I see? 

FAIRY GODMOTHER 

Tut, tut, my child! What makes you cry? 
Come, wipe your eyes ; it ’s only I ! 

CINDERELLA 

Who are you, and how came you here? 

FAIRY GODMOTHER 
Your fairy godmother, my dear. 

And as for how I came — well, well. 

There are some things I never tell! 

But here I am, so tell me why 
You sit here in the dark and cry. 

CINDERELLA 

O godmamma, the ball ’s to-night, 

And I am such a dreadful fright, 

103 


CtntimUa 


With ragged clothes and hands all marred; 
And I have worked and toiled so hard, 

So that my sisters might be fine. 

O godmamma, what fault is mine 
That I should never have the fun? 

FAIRY GODMOTHER 
My dear, let ’s see what can be done. 
Fetch me a pumpkin here this minute, 
And bring that trap with live mice in it! 
Then set them both outside the door. 
Now shut your eyes — there ’s one thing 
more. 

Abra Kadabra ! Fi Fo Fum ! 

Zip! Presto! Now, my daughter, come 
And view yourself before the glass. 
You’re really quite a tidy lass! 

The fairy waves her crutch about , 

(It was her wand, beyond a doubt!) 

And lo, there stands before the door 
A truly splendid coach-and-four, 

With coachman trim and footman nice, 
Who do not look a bit like mice. 


104 


Cmberella 


And Cinderella's rags have Jled; 

A gorgeous gown is in their stead. 

CINDERELLA 

O godmamma! How can this be? 

Oh, what a lovely, lovely me! 

These silks my wildest dreams surpass — 
And see my slippers made of glass! 

FAIRY GODMOTHER 
And now, my dear, my work is done. 

Go quickly, for the ball ’s begun. 

Behave yourself! Give me a kiss 
For thanks; and, child, remember this: 
Ere midnight you must leave the ball. 

For at that hour your coach and all 
Your geegaws will at once become 
The rags and mice I made them from. 

So leave before the hour has struck. 
Farewell, my dear ; good-by ; good luck ! 

SCENE n 

The place : A ballroom, gay and grand, 
Where all the fairest of the land 
Are gathered for the dance; but wait! 
What lovely stranger comes so late! 


Ctnfcerella 


DANCERS 

Who can she be? Such silk and lace! 

I never saw so fair a face! 

Look, look! the prince! He gave one 
glance 

And straightway begged her for the dance! 
PRINCE 

Fair stranger, let me humbly sue; 

I ’ll dance this dance with none but you. 

CINDERELLA 

You do a stranger too much honor, 
Conferring such delight upon her. 

PRINCE 

How can it be that ne ’er before 
I ’ve met you on this ballroom floor? 

Of all the dancers you ’re the best. 

I ’ll be your partner for the rest. 

What is your name? Where do you dwell? 

CINDERELLA 

Your Grace, I fear I must not tell! 

And so they dance and cause a stir. 

The prince will only dance with her. 

106 


Cmberella 


Then , as they talk , with sudden shock 
Fair Cinderella sees the clock. 

’T is nearly midnight. With a cry 
She starts, and turns to say good-by. 

CINDERELLA 

Good-night, your Grace. I can’t delay. 
PRINCE 

’T is early yet ; I beg you stay ! 

You have not told me — there, she ’s flown 
And left me sitting here alone. 

She ran as though some dreadful fate 
Awaited her if she were late. 

SCENE III 

Again the ballroom ; maidens fair 
And gallants all are gathered there. 

See where the sisters, stiff and proud, 

So gaily mingle with the crowd. 

The prince's face is trouble-laden: 

He cannot find that lovely maiden. 

CINDERELLA ( entering ) 

Oh me ! It ’s fun to come once more 
In finer dresses than before! 


107 


Cmberella 


That blessed fairy was on hand 
And sent me in my carriage grand. 

My sisters do not recognize 
Poor Cinderella in this guise. 

Here comes the prince — it seems as though 
He ’s glad I ’ve come, he ’s smiling so ! 

PRINCE 

Fair lady, why are you so late? 

It seemed as though I could not wait. 

I planned this ball with but one aim — 
To find you here and learn your name! 

CINDERELLA 

Dear prince, my name I must not tell. 

But if you think I dance so well, 

Then let me dance ! It ’s such a treat, 

With magic slippers on one’s feet! 

PRINCE 

Why did you fly the other night 
Just when the dance was at its height? 

I hope this time that you will stay 
Until the night is danced away. 

CINDERELLA 

No, prince, ere midnight I must go. 

108 


Ctnberella 


PRINCE 

Then may the clock be very slow! 
CINDERELLA (i later ) 

Dear prince, such kindness you have shown. 
You’ve danced to-night with me alone. 

I almost fear to ask the time — 

Oh hark! is that the midnight chime? 

Oh, I must run, it is so late! 

PRINCE 

Here! Stay! You ’ve dropped your slipper ! 
Wait! 

CINDERELLA 

Eleven strokes — but one stroke more! 
Thank goodness I ’m outside the door ! 

I ’m safe ; the clock has ceased its tolling. 
Oh, see that yellow pumpkin rolling! 

I hear a palace guardsman scoff; 

I ’m all in rags ! I ’ll hurry off. 

SCENE IV 

The scene : A parlor, near that room 
Where Cinderella sat in gloom. 

109 


Ctnberella 


The cousins talk in tones delighted 
Of news that has them all excited. 
Unnoticed, Cinderella stands 
And dries the soapsuds from her hands. 

COUSINS 

They say the prince hunts high and low 
For that strange maid who pleased him so. 
He has her slipper, so they say, 

And he has sent out word to-day 
That she whose foot will fit the shoe 
Shall be his bride, no matter who! 

Who knows ! My foot is very fine. 

And so is mine! And so is mine! 

HERALD ( entering ) 

Ho! All the ladies in this place! 

By order of His Royal Grace 

Each one must try this crystal slipper 

To see if it will pinch or nip her. 

COUSINS 

Me first! No, me! Here, I’m the older! 
Ouch! Let me lean upon your shoulder! 
See, I can walk! Oh dear, such pain! 


no 


Ctnfcerella 


HERALD ( smiling ) 

I fear your efforts are in vain. 

Who is that maiden over there? 

She looks to me quite sweet and fair. 
COUSINS 

The girl who does our household chores. 
Go, Cinderella; wait outdoors. 

HERALD 

Stay, child. The prince directed me 
That all should try. Here, let me see. 
PRINCE ( entering ) 

Sir Herald, my impatience great 
Forbid that I should longer wait. 

Your journey through the town I ’ve traced 
And followed to this spot in haste. 
HERALD 

Your Grace, it cannot be gainsaid, 

The slipper fits this lovely maid! 

COUSINS 

Impossible! It cannot fit! 

CINDERELLA 

’T is mine, and here ’s the mate to it ! 


hi 


Cmberella 


PRINCE 

’T is she indeed ! I ’d know her face 
At any time, in any place. 

Sir Herald, send the tidings round, 
The prince’s lady-love is found. 

( kneeling ) 

Fair Cinderella, be my bride, 

And share my kingdom by my side! 
And grant that there be no delay, — 
To-morrow set our wedding day. 


112 


Hensel anil <©tetf)el 


HENSEL AND GRETHEL 

SCENE I 

O CENE : A wee bedroom up under the 

v -^ eaves 

Of a poor little hut where a forester lives. 

Small Hensel and Grethel are huddled in 
bed 

And dreaming, poor things, they are warm and 
well fed. 

In the room just below them two voices are 
heard, 

And the boards are so thin we can hear every 
word. 

GRETHEL ( waking ) 

Oh dear ! I’m so hungry ! Why could n’t 
I sleep? 

HENSEL 

Cheer up, little sister, and try not to weep. 

It must be near morning ; I ’d like to find 
out 

What father and mother are talking about. 


©ettSel anii (Sretfjcl 


STEPMOTHER’S VOICE 

I tell you, there ’s little to eat in the place. 

We ’ll starve — that ’s as plain as the nose 
on your face, 

The way those two children keep begging 
for more. 

It ’s time we were through with providing 
for four. 

FATHER’S VOICE 

But what can we do? There are four to 
be fed! 

STEPMOTHER 

Just do as I say : I’ve a plan in my head. 

Those children must go; they are hungry 
all day, 

And hands that can’t work must get out 
of the way. 

FATHER 

But they are so young. Things look better 
ahead ; 

For soon they can help us at earning our 
bread. 

STEPMOTHER 

My mind is made up — I want that under- 
stood ! 


SNntfel anb (gretfjel 


To-morrow we ’ll see they get lost in the 
wood. 

GRETHEL 

0 brother, what terrible planning I hear! 

HENSEL 

1 too have a plan, little sister, don’t fear! 
But get up quite early and work with a will ; 
With little white pebbles my pockets we ’ll 

fill. 


SCENE II 

The scene: A faint pathway that winds 
through the trees ; 

So gay are the birds and so soft is the] breeze 

That the four who are gloomily wending their 
way 

Seem quite out of place on this beautiful day. 

HENSEL ( whispering to Grethel ) 

I ’ve scattered my pebbles along, one by 
one ; 

I ’m certain they never will know what I ’ve 
done. 

If only they ’ll let me keep walking behind, 

Our path will be ever so easy to find. 


Hemsel anti (gretfjel 


STEPMOTHER 

Children, to-day we go deep in the wood, 

So see that our orders are well understood! 

We can’t have you straying for flowers and 
such tricks, 

Just stay where we put you and gather up 
sticks. 

GRETHEL 

But, father, why can’t we stay near where 
you are? 

FATHER ( troubled ) 

You ’re both much too little for walking so 
far. 

STEPMOTHER 

Here now, no complaining. That rock just 
ahead 

Is where we must leave you. Come, here 
is some bread. 

It is n’t a lot, but it ’s something to munch. 

And that and wild berries will do for your 
lunch. 

So Hens el and Grethel were left all alone. 

They wept for a while as they sat on a stone, 
116 


l&zn&zl anb (©retfjel 


And nibbled their crusts, until Hensel cried, 
“Fie! 

We ' re wasting good light while the sun is on 
high. 

We 'll follow my pebbles, and what would you 
say 

If we should get home quite a while before 
they !” 

And so it turned out . What was father's 
delight 

And stepmother's anger, to meet them that 
night. 

But the stepmother falsely cried, “ Goodness , 
my dears, 

We searched for you everywhere, sickened 
with fears. 

To-morrow you really must wait our return. 

The paths are too many for children to learn." 

At midnight small Hensel rose, still as a 
mouse, 

But found the stepmother had locked all the 
house. 

No stones could he gather to help in his need, 

And Hensel and Grethel were troubled indeed. 


Sensei anb <®retf)el 


But “Cheer up,” cried Hensel, “we'll use 
crumbs instead; 

I'll walk just behind and I'll crumble my 
bread.” 

SCENE III 

A scene in the woods, where the thickets and 
brush 

Are dense and unbroken; the gloom and the 
hush 

Seem to show 'tis the heart of the forest. 
And there 

Poor Hensel and Grethel are deep in despair. 

HENSEL 

Alas, little sister, this time we are lost. 

Those bread crumbs were useless, I find to 
our cost. 

They were eaten by birds just as soon as 
they fell; 

And what will become of us no one can tell. 

GRETHEL 

Dear brother, have courage. While day- 
light is here 

Let ’s hunt for a shelter ; some hut may be 
near. Il8 


©ettiSel anb (gretfjel 


This seems like a pathway all covered with 
weeds ! 

HENSEL 

Why, sister, you ’re right ! We will see 
where it leads. 

GRETHEL 

The sun is so low — I’m afraid of the night. 

Oh look ahead, brother, I ’m sure there ’s a 
light ! 

HENSEL 

A queer little cottage, quite tidy and neat. 

Thank goodness ! I ’m dying for something 
to eat. 

GRETHEL 

O brother, this house has a gingerbread 
roof, 

Just taste of this piece if you need any 
proof ! 

There ’s candy for windows and cake for 
the wall. 

HENSEL 

If nobody lives here we ’ll gobble it all ! 


Hcnsiel anti <Scetf)d 


OLD WITCH ( coming out ) 

What dear little children! How came you 
so far? 

HENSEL 

We ’re lost in the woods and don’t know 
where we are. 

OLD WITCH 

You poor little things! Just you run in 
ahead. 

I ’ll get you some supper and put you to 
bed. 

(To herself) 

What luck — though I like them much 
plumper than that. 

I ’ll keep the small boy in the cage to get 
fat. 

Alas for the children ! They ’re warm and well 
fed , 

And thankful and happy they jump into bed. 

So weary are they that they drop right to sleep. 

The witch then takes Hensel, still slumbering 
deep, 

And locks him away in a great iron cage; 

“Stay there till you’re fatter l” she says in a 
rage. 


120 


Sensei anb ©retfjel 


SCENE IV 

The scene : In the cottage, where Grethel has 
toiled 

At sweeping and dusting; her face is all soiled 
With dust and with tear-marks; the witch is 
near by 

And keeps the poor child always under her eye. 
WITCH 

Come hither, now, child, it is high time to 
bake. 

I must mend up my walls with a piece of 
fresh cake. 

So see if the oven is heated enough 
Before I start mixing my batter and stuff. 

GRETHEL 

But, ma’am, I ’m too little to open the door. 
WITCH 

Why, nonsense, it is n’t too high from the 
floor. 

The oven ’s so big you must clamber way 
in 

To see if it ’s heated, so I can begin. 

121 


©ense l anb (gretfjel 


(Jo herself) 

I ’ll clap the door shut when she ’s safely 
inside. 

She ’s fat enough now and her brother may 
bide. 

GRETHEL 

The door is too high — I can’t ever climb in. 

WITCH 

Oh fiddlesticks ! ’T is n’t as high as your 
shin! 

Just do the way I do. See, this is the way. 

GRETHEL ( slamming oven door shut ) 

Old witch, you are in it, and there you may 
stay! 

WITCH {founding on oven door) 

Let me out ! Let me out ! Or I ’ll eat you 
alive ! 

GRETHEL ( dancing ) 

You won’t get a chance, though you pound 
and you strive. 

And now while you ’re howling in there in 
a rage, 


122 


3#en£el anti (©retijel 


I’ll just go and hunt for the key of the 
cage. 

SCENE V 

Scene Five shows poor Hensel, quite hopeless 
his state, 

Locked up in a cage and awaiting his fate . 

GRETHEL ( running in) 

O Hensel, we ’re safe and together once 
more! 

And here is the key to your strong iron 
door. 

HENSEL 

But where is the witch, and who gave you 
the key? 

GRETHEL 

She ’s shut in the oven she heated for me ! 

The key was hung up in a closet I found, 

Where jewels and gold were all scattered 
around. 

HENSEL 

You wonderful sister! Come work with a 
will ; 


123 


Sensei anti (gretfjel 


With better than pebbles my pockets we ’ll 
fill. 

GRETHEL 

I ’ll wrap up some lunch in a package, and 
then 

We ’ll hunt for the road that leads home- 
ward again. 

SCENE VI 

Scene Six is the woodcutter's cottage once 
more, 

Where everything looks just as poor as before. 

The cruel stepmother has suddenly died, 

The woodcutter lives there with none by his 
side. 

He sighs as he thinks of how great is the cost 

His heart must now pay for the children he 
lost. 

HENSEL AND GRETHEL ( calling from the wood) 

Look! There is our home! We were right, 
after all. 

FATHER 

It seemed to me then I heard somebody 
call! 


124 


J&tn&tl anb (Sretfjel 


HENSEL AND GRETHEL ( running up) 

O father, we ’re safe, and we ’ve come back 
to stay! 

Oh, say that you never will send us away! 

FATHER 

My children! We never must part any 
more! 

HENSEL ( emptying pockets and showing jewels ) 

And these will drive poverty out of the 
door! 


CURTAIN 




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